Chasing Bliss

by Sabrina A. Eubanks

  Chase spent more time with Corey, but he always saw Cyrus at least twice a week. He usually showed up at Cream an hour or two before closing, accusing Chase of avoiding him and trying to sidestep his family. Chase typically shrugged off the accusations and changed the subject. Fuck it, he thought. Let Cyrus think whatever the hell he wants.

  Chase had tried on more than one occasion to tell Cyrus he no longer wanted any part of his drug-dealing empire, but every time he talked to him, it either landed on deaf ears, or Cyrus got angry and reminded Chase how that drug dealing had financed Chase’s businesses. Cyrus let Chase know, point blank, that he owed him.

  Chase had gotten used to Cyrus and his bullshit though. After all, he’d taken shit off his big brother since he’d come into the world. It stopped bothering him long ago that Cyrus thought Chase was chained to him, his financier. Chase had paid Cyrus back his initial investment before he opened Cream, so he knew he really didn’t owe him shit.

  What Chase couldn’t stand about Cyrus was the way he always insinuated that Chase could never completely sever ties with him and his criminal activities. Chase could fill a nice-sized corner in any cemetery with the people he’d knocked off under his brother’s orders. Every conversation they had about it always ended that way. Cyrus left it hanging over his head like a black cloud. At least once a year, he came calling with another mad request, and Chase always complied.

  He had his reasons. On one level, he felt he really did owe Cyrus. If he hadn’t taken them in when their mother died, there was no telling what would have become of him and Corey. Corey, incidentally, was another reason. Chase didn’t want Cyrus using Corey the same way he used him. Corey always walked with his gun; he always had. But Corey was more of a shoot-a-man-in-the-leg type. As far as Chase knew, Corey had never killed anybody, and if anybody had to go to hell for Cyrus, Chase would rather be the one. Corey was who he was, but he wasn’t a straight-up killer, and if it was left up to Chase, he never would be. Chase loved Corey more than anyone in his world. After all, the boy was his little brother…and always would be.

  The last reason Chase always toed the line for Cyrus was because, lately, Cyrus had been making him feel an unspoken “or else.” He’d make his request, Chase would tell him he didn’t want to do it, and Cyrus would sigh and spread his hands with a sad smile, and then chuckle and say, “Well, you have to, Chase.”

  Lately, Chase had been glaring at Cyrus like he was looking at him through one of those special lights that showed you shit you couldn’t see with the naked eye. When he looked at his brother like that, Chase would look at him and see “or else” written all over him. What the hell does that mean? Does he mean I better do it, or he’ll make sure the law comes down on me? Does he mean he’ll make sure one of his rivals knows I did away with somebody they held in high regard? Would my own brother rat me out like that? Wait…maybe it’s much simpler than that. Maybe he means if I don’t do his damn dirty work, he’ll kill me himself. The idea didn’t seem so farfetched to Chase. They were brothers and they loved each other, but neither of them had ever been the other one’s favorite. They were both a lot closer to Corey than they would ever be to each other.

  It was hard to say why they both loved Corey best. Maybe it was because Corey was the youngest. Chase couldn’t speak for Cyrus, but brother or not, he didn’t much care for the man. That had pretty much always been true, but since Cyrus’s return from prison, Chase found that he’d lost just about all of his tolerance for his big brother. To him, it was like Cyrus had come home without his clothes, and he saw him like he really was: a bossy, vengeful, tyrant, with no distinct feelings of loyalty.

  In spite of all that, Cyrus put up a good front. It was fairly easy to interpret that Cyrus’s occasional generosity and benevolence was for the good of those close to him, but when it got down to brass tacks, Cyrus cared about…well, Cyrus. Everything he did was ultimately for his own benefit, and he was the most selfish person Chase had ever met in his life. Cyrus was a genius at manipulation, and he had no problem using people like tools. He lived for the taste of control, and he pulled the strings of the people around him like a damn puppet master.

  Chase and Cyrus played a silent game of tug-of-war with Corey. Cyrus held tremendous sway over their younger brother, and while Corey idolized both of them, it seemed to Chase that Corey held everything that fell out of Cyrus’s mouth to his ear, like it was a lump of gold. Cyrus spread around a lot more coal than gold, though, and Chase always made it his business to make the easily-influenced Corey see whatever Cyrus had to say in a starker light.

  Most of the time, Corey listened to him. Sometimes, though, he’d wave him off and point out Chase’s own shortcomings. If he looked all the way to the end of the road, Chase could see how this story was going to play out, and he didn’t like it one bit. However, Chase chose to live his life day by day, and today, he was still captain of his own destiny.

  Chase slouched in the large leather chair behind his fancy teak wood desk in his office at Cream, with his eyes closed. He was brooding hard at this chain of thought.

  The door was thrown open unceremoniously, and Delia Montgomery sashayed into the room, yelling at him and smelling like flowers. “Chase, what the hell is wrong with you, sittin’ up in here in the dark in the middle of the day?”

  Chase opened his eyes and watched her as she did her sexy, slinky, strut across the room in four-inch heels. Delia was wearing a white dress with tiny red flowers; it looked like she’d been poured into it. The straps that held it up were pretty gathers of wispy cloth, but it dipped low in the back to show off her sexy, well-formed shoulders.

  Delia went to the window and let up the wooden blinds, and sunlight flooded the room. “I can’t believe you! It’s two in the afternoon. You ain’t a vampire. Now get your ass up!” Delia wasn’t a large woman, but she had a great big voice—a raspy whiskey voice that Chase found very appealing.

  Chase squinted at the light and shielded his eyes with his hand. He sat up in his chair and looked at the view. Delia was standing with her back to him, twirling the rod that opened the blinds.

  Chase smiled to himself. He liked to watch Delia when she thought he wasn’t paying her any mind. Dee was a good-looking woman. Chase eyed her now, standing with her legs apart, twirling that stick. Her ass and her full breasts jiggled enticingly. Her calves and thighs were firm and inviting.

  She turned and faced him, putting her hands on her shapely hips. The sunlight washed across her face and lit up her tawny skin. She had a light dusting of freckles across her nose and light brown eyes. Her rich auburn hair was done up in a purposely messy upsweep, and the sun glinted off its subtle hints of gold. Any way you cut it, Delia Montgomery was fine as hell, even if she was fifteen years older than Chase.

  “When are you gonna learn how to knock, Dee?” Chase asked, a slow smile creeping across his lips.

  She gave him a sultry smile of her own and sat on the corner of his desk, very near his right elbow. The warm, flowery scent of her filled his nostrils in a seductively pleasant way. Chase sat back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest to keep from reaching out and touching her, though his fingers itched to do it.

  Dee crossed her legs and looked down at his crotch like she was taking a picture. She looked back up at his face and batted her eyelashes at him. “What am I knocking for? You in here gettin’ to know yourself a little better?”

  Chase laughed as his eyes ran the length of her smooth brown legs. “I bet you’d love to see that.”

  She touched his knee with her ankle and then took it away. Chase licked his lips as she leaned forward and gave him a generous view of her cleavage. “I sure would, honey. Are you gonna get started right now?”

  They stared at each other for a moment, and then Chase frowned and laughed. “Damn, Dee. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you wanted me.”

  She laughed her throaty laugh. “I do, but you won’t let me have you. You must have something against old
er ladies.”

  Chase stood and laughed again, walking to the window. “Keep it up, Dee, and I will have something against an old lady.”

  Delia chuckled softly. “You talk big, Chase, but you never back it up.”

  He grinned at her charmingly. “You know I love you, Dee.”

  Dee had been Chase’s “Girl Friday” since he’d been in business, and he would have been lost without her. She handled his affairs above and beyond the call of duty, always with an iron fist. She put a lot of effort into keeping him successful. Chase adored her in more ways than one. It was a mutual feeling that they never acted on, no matter how much or how hard they flirted with each other. Chase refused to see what he’d worked so hard to build crumble to the ground because of someone’s fickle feelings—hers or his own.

  That was why he was so loath to touch her or stay too close. Too much contact, and they’d both be smoking cigarettes and basking in the afterglow. He knew it was a tried and true way to end a beautiful friendship and a lovely and profitable working relationship.

  Delia got up and walked over to him, her hands on her hips and her eyes looking at him with mild concern. “Yeah, I know you love me, honey. I love you too. It’s not like you to be sitting here in the dark like that unless something’s bothering you. Come on, baby. Tell Mama what’s the matter.”

  Chase rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. “I’d lie to you, Dee, but you’d know it. I was just thinkin’ about my brother.”

  Her eyebrow shot up in a curious arch. “Which one?”

  Chase laughed without a great deal of humor. “Both of ‘em…but mostly Cyrus.”

  Dee made a face. “You have my sympathies, baby.”

  Chase smiled at her. “Don’t like Cyrus much, do you?”

  Delia shrugged and looked totally unconcerned. “There’s no love lost between me and that man. He doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him…and I know you ain’t crazy about him either, brother or not.”

  Chase looked at her carefully, but he didn’t lose his smile. “I feel you, Dee, but Cyrus is still my flesh and blood.”

  Dee pursed her lips and went into I-don’t-give-a-shit mode. “So what? Being your brother does not entitle him to come around here and put his foot on your neck, and it doesn’t mean you have to let him just because he is. Come on, Chase. This is me. I know your business, and I know his no-good ass is the reason people call you Smoke.”

  Chase’s smile evaporated. She was absolutely right. People called him that because everybody knew he’d smoke someone’s ass. He wasn’t particularly fond of the nickname, but it was true.

  The look on her face softened, and she laid a hand on his arm. “Stop letting him control you, sugar. You’re worth much more than what he reduces you to.”

  Chase was well aware that Delia knew what role he played for his big brother. She made it her business to know just about everything that went on in his life, and she protected him fiercely. Even if she wasn’t aware of it, she was about the only person on Earth whom he trusted that much. He always thought that if his fate were ever hanging in the balance, he’d rather Dee be at the controls than Cyrus…or even Corey. “Maybe I’m not worth as much as you think,” he said.

  Dee smiled and patted his bicep. “Yes you are. Look around. Look how successful you are on your own, without that fool. You don’t need Cyrus, Chase.”

  He looked at the floor and sighed deeply. “Yeah, but he’s my brother, Dee.”

  “Like I said before, so what? What are you trying so hard to stay in his favor for?”

  Chase looked at his watch and was startled to see how much time had gotten away from him. He had to meet Cyrus, and he was going to be late. “We gotta have this conversation later, Dee.”

  She frowned and then gave him a knowing smile. “Where are going, Chase? You planning on giving some of my sugar away?”

  He smiled at her and headed for the door. “I wish. Gotta meet Cyrus.”

  Dee frowned again. “Chase, don’t let him—”

  Chase laughed and walked out the door. “Bye, Dee.”

  He and Corey were supposed to meet Cyrus at a café down on Little West Twelfth Street. Chase really wasn’t in a hurry, so he took his time getting there, just because he knew it would piss Cyrus off. He wondered what Cyrus wanted; he hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was.

  Chapter 2

  When Chase walked into the café, Cyrus and Corey were already there, laughing and talking over drinks. Chase joined them, glad to see Corey—glad to see them both, really—but he remained guarded with Cyrus. “What’s good?” he asked and sat opposite Cyrus with Corey between them.

  Cyrus grinned and put his drink down. “What’s up, Smoke? You got no love for your brothers?”

  Chase stood and gave them the expected one-shoulder hug.

  “That was a little weak. You feelin’ all right, Chase?”

  Before Chase could answer, Corey did it for him. “He thinks you want a favor. Can’t you tell? He’s all tight and quiet and shit.”

  Cyrus signaled for the waiter and looked at both his brothers with a gracious smile. “You would think I ask for one all the time. That’s not what we’re here for today, so relax, Smoke.”

  Chase slumped in his seat so Cyrus and Corey wouldn’t notice his shoulders dropping in relief. Whew. Now he could actually sit back and enjoy their company and have a meal with them without getting a serious case of heartburn.

  The waiter stopped at Cyrus’s elbow, and Cyrus looked at Chase. “You drinkin’, Smoke?”

  “Yeah. Give me a Rémy straight up,” he said to the waiter and then turned his attention back to Cyrus. “So what’s up, Cyrus? It’s been a minute since I saw your ass in broad daylight.” Cyrus laughed amiably, and Corey followed suit.

  “You know Cyrus is a night owl, Smoke. Negro’s like a goddamn vampire.”

  Chase smiled and shrugged, mentally noting that they’d both called him Smoke, so something had to be up, even though Cyrus said otherwise. He nodded in Corey’s direction. “Yeah? Well, you must be one, too, Corey, ‘cause I ain’t seen your ass either.”

  Corey looked at him sideways. “I would’ve hollered sooner, but me and Cyrus been workin’ on somethin’.”

  The waiter dropped off Chase’s drink, and Chase picked it up and took a sip. “Something like what? Y’all plannin’ a takeover? Need somebody greased?”

  Cyrus rolled his eyes in exasperation and then looked at him impatiently. “See? This is what I mean, Corey. You never know who you’re gonna get with this nigga. His ass is always irritated. If he ain’t in straight-up bitch mode, he’s pissin’ and moanin’ about shit in the past. Why can’t he just leave all that snide shit at home and have a decent dinner with his family?”

  Corey laughed and pushed his chair back a little. “Uh-uh, Cyrus. You wanna talk to Chase, talk to him. Don’t talk at him through me. I ain’t fuckin’ wit’ y’all and your bullshit.”

  Chase glanced at Corey and then looked at Cyrus. He felt anger building in him, forcing his jaw to clench and his fists to curl, but he held it in. “It ain’t my bullshit, Corey.”

  Corey took his cell phone out and stood up. “I got a couple of calls to make. When I get back, it would be nice to see y’all holdin’ hands and singin’ songs.” He walked away, leaving Chase and Cyrus sitting there, just staring at each other.

  Cyrus leaned back in his seat and regarded Chase for a long moment before he spoke. “You know, Chase . . .” Cyrus leaned forward with his elbows on the table, talking to him like he was a small, petulant, child. “Sometimes we all gotta do shit we don’t want to do. It’s kinda like when Mama gave us castor oil. Sometimes it’s hard goin’ down, but the end result is a beautiful thing. Know what I mean?”

  Chase smiled at his brother but narrowed his eyes. “Beautiful for who, Cyrus?”

  Cyrus returned his smile and shrugged. “You know when anything benefits me, it benefits you and Corey too.”

  “I don’t need
your damn money. I don’t need your protection either. Sometimes I get the feeling that a lot of people are scared of you because they’re scared of me. Don’t you?”

  Cyrus laughed. “I don’t really give a shit why they’re scared, Smoke, as long as they stay fucking scared.”

  Chase sipped his drink and complained, “Got people callin’ me Smoke and shit? That’s fucked up, Cyrus.”

  “They’ve been callin’ you that for years, little brother. They probably don’t even know why it’s your name.”

  Chase frowned. “It’s not my fuckin’ name. It’s some shit you started callin’ me. You ain’t right, Cyrus. You should do your shit yourself instead of handing me your dirty work.”

  “I can’t do work like that, Chase. I’d be in jail in two days. I’m nowhere near as neat as you.” He paused and chuckled. “Picture that. That’s some real funny shit, Chase.”

  Chase narrowed his eyes and finished his drink. “What if I get caught, Cyrus? What then? Or do you even care?”

  Cyrus gave him his best big-brother look. “Course I do. If that ever happens—which I seriously doubt—you don’t got no worries. You know I got your back, Smoke.”

  Chase looked at him with undiluted skepticism. “You got me, Cyrus? What? You gonna do my bid for me?”

  Cyrus attempted to brush him off like he was tripping. “Why are you always going this route with me, Smoke? Why are you stuck on the subject? It’s like it’s all you ever think about?”

  Chase looked at him coldly. “It takes up a decent part of my day. Look, Cyrus, I got a lot to lose. I’m a businessman. I shook all that illegal shit off a long time ago.”

  Cyrus gave him a dark, satisfied smile. “Not quite, Smoke.”

  Chase’s mouth dropped open just a bit, and he looked away from Cyrus. He wanted very badly to just ask him, right out, what he really had planned for him if he decided he wasn’t going to be his own personal assassin anymore, but something kept him from asking the question. He suspected he was just afraid of the answer he might get.